Let it Bleed
by vintageromance
Summary: A suicide victim makes Sara go over the top, she resolves to cutting. Getting worse she is remembering more and more about her childhood. Who will be there to stop her from falling any lower? SaraGreg.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Let it Bleed

**Rating: **T

**Pairing: **Sandle eventually.

**Summery: **A suicide victim makes Sara go over the top, she resolves to cutting. Who will be there to stop her from falling any lower? SaraGreg- A little sad.

Sorry I'm doing Three Stories at once O.o;;

* * *

There it was, small, black, worn out, pages ripped, and thrown in the corner of the room, turned upside down by the Las Vegas CSI. Sara Sidle wrapped her slender pale fingers around the book and picked it up; flipping through the white pages she went to the most recent entry _the last entry _of the journal.

Dear Diary,

I'm not even sure why I call you that _diary _it's not like I'm even talking to a person, if you were a person I'm sure you'd stay the hell away from me. Right? The only reason I write in this stupid thing is because my consoler says it's a good idea, to get my _emotions flowing _whatever the fuck that means. Better off this way then writing poetry. So I think I'll actually let my emotions _flow_ this one time, this one entry.

I've been thinking for the past few weeks, about my life, what it means, would people care if I'm gone? The few friends I have don't even notice the cuts, the bruises on my arm. If they did they are either too scared or not worried enough to ask. If they were my real friends wouldn't you think they'd say stop? I live with my grandparents, they tell me constantly that I'm not good enough, not perfect enough; they say I have bad grades, are B's really that bad? They tell me what to wear, they tell me my friends are pigs, and the funny thing is they don't even notice that I cut myself. Would they notice if I was dead?

I'm at my moms house on the weekends and don't get my wrong because I love my mom to pieces, but she's impossible. The drugs, the cigarettes, the sex? She said she stopped but I'll catch her sometimes and I'll pretend I don't notice so she won't have to apologize. When I say drugs, I mean she seriously smokes pot, uses needles… I don't even know what's in them. This one time I came home for the weekend, and I found her asleep on the bed with a needle in her arm. I got so scared, I ran to my room and locked the door, and I stayed in there for the rest of the night. What kind of teenager has to go through this? My mom doing drugs? My grandparents telling me I'm stupid, I'll never go to college. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of this fucking life. I just wish… I just wish that it would stop.

_Jeannette _

Tears stained the page, making some letters hard to read. Sara felt her own warm tears stream down her face. This was her, or it could have been… When her mother had killed her father and she was in foster care, she would study like crazy just to get an A; if she got a B she would cry, lock herself in a room and stay there. She just had to go to college she just had to, she wanted to get away from her reputation as the daughter of the mother who was a killer. When her foster parents had told her "Face it, you'll never make it to college." Told her she wasn't good enough, no one would take a daughter of a murderer Sara's grades suddenly dropped drastically, A's to B's and eventually scattered C's here and there. She wouldn't talk to anyone, she was convinced she would never make it in life, she was a _failure. _

That's when she resolved in cutting herself. Sara remembered sitting on the cold bathroom floor, a blade in her hand, one she had ripped from razor. She held it tightly between her index and thumb; tears flowed from her eyes staining her face. She had traced cuts up and down her skin, like patterns or drawings. When she was done she watched it bleed, the blood dropped from her arm and onto the ground with a little splash.

However Sara stopped cutting herself when a friend found out, she told her "Sara your one of the smartest friends that I have, but right now you're being an idiot. When was the last time you really listening to what other people said? When have you ever believed me when I said your stupid? I'm _always _kidding you know that. Don't listen to your foster parents. I love you and I wont let you do this to yourself." That's when she realized that her friend was right, the cuts? The bad grades, she was destroying her life's dreams, and she had to stop.

Sara held the diary in her hand, not realizing the tears flowing freely down her face, not even noticing that she was gripping the diary so tight her knuckles turned white.

"Sara?" She dropped the diary in surprise and wiped her tears self-consciously. She turned to see Grissom standing beside her, she noticed his hand was on her shoulder but she couldn't feel it. "Sara are you okay, your face…" Sara touched her face quickly feeling it was still damp, "Have you been crying?"

"No… I" What was she suppose to say? Of course she was crying.

"Sara go home. Take a break." Grissom said his voice was lacking emotion, lacking concern. Sara stepped away from him turned towards Jeannette's body, her wrists had been slit, blood droplets on the floor, the diary… It was suicide and she knew it, _she _could have committed suicide when she was in high school, _could have… _

"Sara." Grissom said.

"Right, yeah good idea, I'll just…" but she had already walked off, out and back to the CSI lab.

* * *

Sara found herself in the CSI's women's bathroom. She really should have gone home, but she just couldn't sit there on her couch thinking about her life, that girl's life. If someone was there for her, if someone had said something or had been concerned she might still be here. Anger took over Sara's sadness quickly. _How could people be so cold hearted, like they didn't care? _

Catherine Willows, the social butterfly of the nightshift walked through the blue double doors of the women's bathroom, strawberry hair bouncing with every step. "Hey Sar—" Catherine started to say, but Sara ran out of the bathroom hiding her puffy eyes, tear stained face. She didn't need, or want to talk to Catherine at the moment, when Catherine would ask "What's wrong?" What would Sara say?

Sara ran into the locker room, the only empty place, she fiddled with her locker's lock, _right 35 or was it 34? 34. Left 40, Right 29. _She flung the locker open and stared into it at its emptiness. A few pictures lined the doors inside along with a small mirror. She stared at her pale complexion in the mirror, ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. Any case that reminded her of her own life made her sick; she held her stomach and closed her eyes. _If someone even cared… A lot more people would still be here. _She opened her eyes and screamed, slamming her fist into the mirror, it shattered and the glass clattered to the floor the noise echoed the room, no one came running, no one had heard. She stared at her knuckles which began to bleed, little pieces of glass sticking to her skin. She didn't care. She couldn't feel it.

Instead Sara picked up a long piece of broken mirror in her hand; she felt her old cutting scars, stared at them for a long moment before sliding the glass into her skin, Sara shut her eyes, feeling the pain was still feeling. At least she could _feel _that. She felt the cold glass in her, soon it quickly became warm, and she moved her arm and dropped the glass. Sara fell to the floor, and leaned against a locker holding her arm tight, tears again making their way down her face.

"Sara…" Sara's eyes widened, she suddenly noticed how much blood was on the floor, the glass, the mess she had made, not only to the locker room but to her arm, she gasped and put her head in her hands, _wait who said my name? _"Sara!" Greg, who had walked into the locker room to grab his stuff so he could head home, and take a nice relaxing nap, dropped his coat. He ran over to Sara's side, he fell down on his knees and pulled Sara into a hug, "What's wrong? Sara? What did you do?" He stared at the blood, the glass, her arm. "We need to get you help. Now." _She really did need help._

_

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**A/N**_ TBC, comments please, this took me a while, I was reading sad and depressing poetry when I came up with this idea >. 

It's baced on the poetry and The Used song "Let it Bleed"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** Yay! Thanks for the reviews. I've been reading Fruits Baskets and they have 'Extra Blah Blah's' or authors notes about the story and stuff so I felt like writing one.

I used me as the victim in the story (Jeannette), some of the things in this story are sadly based on true events, they might not just be my events though, some of them are and in the upcoming chapter (following this one) there will be a Sara childhood flash back that will be based on a true story that happened to me. Bleh.

Nee'way sorry to keep you waiting in suspence, you can just skip all that above and go ahead to the story .

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Sara kneeled in front of Greg, her knees in the sharp glass, poking her, cutting her. She extended her arm to Greg who had quickly gotten a first aid kit. Seriously Greg should have gotten paramedics, doctors, a physiatrist something or someone to make Sara better, _normal _even. In all the six long years he had known Sara, she was not the type to fall this low, enough to hurt herself like this. She was known to drink when things were tough, and falling apart. Greg stared at the blood, but this, _this_ was worse.

The Sara Greg knew was tough, strong, and independent. He remembered her flashy comebacks when he pointed a joke at her, how sarcastic she is, how pretty… He unraveled the bandage and wrapped it around Sara's wounded arm; Sara winced from the bandage coming in contact with her skin. "Sara, we need to get you home, away from here." Greg's complexion was full of concern, from his deep eyes, to his black converse shoes. Sara just stared at the floor eyes wide, speechless overcome with what she had done. She looked at the blood on the ground, the blood that had gotten on her clothes, all that blood. The dark crimson liquid that once ran through her veins through her body was now all over her clothes, Greg's clothes, and the locker room. She realized she still was holding a piece of glass in her other hand tightly, how come she couldn't feel the pain anymore, how come? When she inspected murder scenes, she'd seen worse, but this was her blood.

Sara's vision blurred, her head ached, she clutched her newly bandaged arm, she felt like she couldn't breath. "Sara?" Greg's voice came but it was distant, "Sar—"Sara fell forward onto Greg's chest, she was holding a fist full of his shirt tightly, her eyes closed.

Greg grabbed her, shaking her lightly, "Sara wake up, please… oh god." Sara had passed out, onto Greg. _Call 911? Bring her home? Get Nick or Warrick? _Questions ran through his head, as he held her tightly. If he got Nick or Warrick this would become public that Sara Sidle cut herself, if he called 911 she could possibly lose her job, she was emotionally unstable for work right now. That left his last option. _Bring her home._

_

* * *

_

Greg put Sara in his bed, wrapped the covers around her and turned the heat up a little. Suddenly it felt so cold, like the hot desert air had turned into the frigid winter that was found in Canada. Had Sara made him so cold? How cold was Sara? What had possessed her to cut herself? What could he do? He ran his finger through her soft, smooth hair, moved it away from her face, then he placed a damp, cold washcloth over her hot forehead. As he placed it there Sara's arm grabbed his tightly her finger nails dug into his skin, her eyes sleepily opened, seeing Greg her grip loosened and her arm dropped to her side, she let him touch her cheek, whisper into her ear, "What happened to you Sara?" he ran his fingers down her face, her face tingled where his hand had been.

Sara's eyes began to water up, she watched Greg slowly leave the room, and close the door softly behind him. Sara suddenly for the first time all day became fully aware of everything, how her arm stung when she moved it, how she was no longer in her bloody clothes, _had Greg taken them off for her? _She felt herself flush. What had she done? She remembered all the blood she left in the locker room, she remembered falling onto Greg, shutting her eyes and finally being asleep. It felt good, like as if nothing mattered and everything was going to be okay. She wished she could go back to sleep, to forget it all, but her eyes were glued open, open to look at the world around her and forcing her to feel the good and the bad.

She distinctly remembered putting the blade in her skin, how it felt good if she felt anything at all. She remembered shattering the glass, reading the girls diary, she remembered her past once again. Sara stared at herself, her skin, she felt dirty, as if little bugs were crawling beneath her skin and no matter how she scratched, cut, and bled they would never go away. She sat up in bed, _bed,_ whose bed exactly was it? She hadn't remembered anything until she woke up, and she definitely didn't remember coming into this apartment, this apartment was not hers. She assumed it was Greg's. He had gone through all that trouble getting her out of the lab and into his home. Had people not asked questions when he carried her away? Had people even seen the locker room? She felt grateful Greg was here, he had not taken her to a hospital, which wasn't what she would have wanted in the first place, all the questions from the doctors? They would have to keep her there, in that place with everyone else from burn to cancer patients.

Sara moved her legs painfully off the bed, she examined her knees which had small cuts that were no longer bleeding, they scabbed over. She noticed she was wearing a pair of Greg's boxers and old college grey hoodie which was torn at the sleeves. Sleeves or not Sara needed to thank Greg. She slowly walked to the door, opened it and walked out into Greg's apartment for the first time. Greg was sitting at his wooden kitchen table, head in his hands. Sara stepped towards him and glanced around his house, when she heard Sofia talk about it before she thought it might be a mess, a disaster even knowing Greg. But it was quite the opposite, it was sparkling clean.

"Greg…" She started, her voice cracked slightly she hadn't spoken to anyone in over five hours, she couldn't her voice hurt. Greg looked up suddenly, Sara's eyes widened startled as she realized Greg's face was wet with tears. She'd never seen him like this, but then again what she put him through… when he saw her, helped her. She shouldn't be surprised.

"Sara." Greg spoke quietly, he motioned for her to sit down by the couch in his living room, he stood up and followed her in. They both sat in silence for several minutes before Sara interrupted the awkward silence.

"Greg… I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have seen me like that, ever. And I should have never—"Greg slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it lightly.

"It's okay, I just…" he trailed off looking confused, his left eye brow was raised, "You were always the strong one, emotionally… I want to know Sara; I want to know what's wrong." Her lip trembled, she had told Grissom once, was she ready to tell Greg? Greg, her best friend.

"When… When I was younger my mother killed my father, stabbed him to death, I was put into foster care." Sara started, this was just the beginning, she glanced at Greg's expression which had become unusually pale, but he squeezed her hand, encouraging her to go on. "I hadn't been in just one foster home; I was moved from home to home. In high school I knew I had to work hard, and not become a failure, or worse, I didn't want to end of like my parents. I wanted to be someone. I worked so hard at getting A's, I put so much pressure on myself, my foster parents at the time kept putting me down, telling me how bad I was, how I was so stupid, how no one would ever want to be with such a lazy, worthless girl." She became quiet suddenly and continued in barely a whisper, "I started to cut myself then, just to get away from things. It was like it took away the emotional pain, replacing it with something new… I'm not sure but for some reason it felt so good. I stopped a year after I started, my friend was worried. This case I've been working on, the girl she reminds me of me, she reminds me so much of me that I was thinking if my friend wasn't there for me I could have been her. I could have been the body all the CSI's and police were taking pictures of. If just one person had been there for her, her outcome might have been different; Greg that poor girl might still be alive."

She started to cry, hot tears fell down her face and she closed her eyes tightly. Greg leaned over and hugged her, he whispered, "It's okay, I care about you Sara its okay. I won't let anything happen to you, and I won't let you hurt yourself ever." His breath was warm and soft, it tickled her ears. They sat for several minutes in silence, hugging each other rocking back and forth. Finally Sara pulled away staring at the small cuts all over her legs, her arms, she was stained with blood.

"Thank you so much Greg, thank you for everything. Can I ask you one last thing?" Greg nodded still holding her hand tightly in his, "Can I use your shower?" Greg nodded again.

"I'll get you some towels, and you may borrow my robe if you like."

"Thanks you, _Thank you._" She empathized.

* * *

Sara stepped into Greg's bathroom and locked the door, she noticed immediately that he took everything, and anything sharp out of the bathroom. She sighed, it hadn't crossed her mind to cut again, she promised Greg that she wouldn't but she had to admit that she didn't trust herself with anything sharp either.

She turned on the faucet to the shower, putting it on hot, and let the water flow down her body, washing the dried blood down the drain. The water steamed and slightly burned her skin, and she ignored the searing pain the water was doing to her open cuts.

* * *

Greg sat on the couch where Sara had sat earlier. He cared for her, a lot, even though she had made a promise not to cut again, he wasn't sure if he should trust her or not. She really was emotionally unstable and needed time off from work. _But _Greg thought _if my mother had killed my father too, I'd also be emotionally unstable. _Greg put his head in his hands again; he wanted Sara to be better, to smile, to laugh. Maybe if Greg had gotten to the locker room a little bit earlier, maybe, just maybe he and Sara wouldn't be in this current situation. She could have talked it out. But the past is done, there's nothing Greg could do about it, but fix the future.

When Sara came out of the shower, her hair damp and plastered to her head Greg handed her some tea which she gladly accepted. They again sat on the couch in silence, until Sara set down her cup. "Thank you Greg, really. I appreciate all this, everything but you've done enough, I should go home, and I'll take a few days off from work even. I promise."

"No please." Greg said grabbing her good arm resisting, "I don't feel comfortable letting you go, and I can take care of you, just stay." She hesitated but sat back down on the couch, she turned to Greg "Seriously, thank you." She said quietly.

"No problem, really, I'm just worried about you that's all." He said in the same quiet voice. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips, then pulled away quickly realizing what she had done, she crossed a small line, he was her best friend and helping her, "I… I'm sorry I didn't mean to…" she squeezed her bad arm lightly, enough to feel the pain a little bit. He took her hand away from her arm, staring into her eyes.

"It's okay." He said referring to the kiss in a whisper, "But you need to stop _this_, stop trying to feel pain." Now he was referring to her arm. She pulled away from his grasp on her hand and stared at her feet.

"I'm not—"She trailed off.

"Maybe we should get some rest, I'm beat." Greg said changing the subject, "You can take my bed, I'll take the couch."

"No, I couldn't possibly let you sleep on the couch Greg. Don't be stupid not after everything." Her voice was strong, she wanted to give something back to Greg for helping her, the bed was the least she could do.

"No. Take the bed, please." Greg said almost pleading.

Sara grabbed Greg's arm, "Then… then can you sleep near me?" Had she crossed another line? She wanted so badly for someone to hold her right now, she cared for Greg, she wasn't sure if it was love, but she was sure she liked him and knowing that he practically saved her life today meant more then just a lot.

This time Greg hesitated he wanted to help her more then anything, "Okay." He said, she led him to the bedroom, and she climbed up onto his bed and under the covers. Almost immediately Sara was out, out in dream land again where nothing mattered, and it was like it never happened. Greg stared at her sleeping, and rested under the covered himself, he found her hand and squeezed it lightly, he moved a few inches closer to her. That kiss before, it wasn't anything he knew it, he also knew Sara was vulnerable now more then ever. She wanted protection right now, and maybe, _probably_ was _using_ Greg to get that security. Greg didn't want to take advantage of Sara, weak as she was. He would never do that. But that little kiss, it meant something to him, even if it didn't to her. Greg himself drifted into a lazy sleep. Once sure he was asleep, Sara returned the squeeze, she held his hand tightly unable to fall asleep.

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**A/N **Gahh the drama is killing my hand, I have to type all this and my hand might as well fall off. SO comment on my behalf lol.  



	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N _** Yay thanks for the review! I realized that I didn't really say how Greg got Sara to his house. Thanks for reminding me. So I put that in this chapter. I also realized that I'm updating everyday, that's because I'm soo into writing this one right now lol. I'm writing like crazy in my notebook. Except I never write what I write in my notebook here, its just sort of my ideas for the next chapter…

* * *

_Sara gripped her backpack tightly, tears stained her pale face, and her hair was damp, plastered to her face. She stared at her mom screaming, "You were with her? You were cheating weren't you! Not coming hom—" _

_  
"Honey! I'd never I swear…" Sara's father said in a calm voice, shaking slightly, he had the same deep dark brown eyes as his daughters. _

"_Shut up! I don't want to here you apologize! You're a fucking—" _

"_Please, our daughter…" Her father started, turning to Sara who had came home from school several minutes ago, and was staring, standing there, listening, her heart breaking with every word. Her mother spun around on one foot, shot a nasty glare, enough to kill a man at Sara; her devilish hazel eyes were sparkling in fiery._

_  
"And you, eaves dropping, taking _his _side always, you're a worthless piece of shit! You're never good at anything; just go kill yourself for all I care!." Her words were like poison, stinging Sara, more tears flew down her face, her body shook. Sara pulled her hair in front of her eyes, hiding her red face. "You're always interfering with my life; you think your better then me don't you? You trashy bitch!" Sara's mother grabbed the closest thing her hands could grab, a book. She flung it at Sara with incredible force, hitting Sara square in the face. Sara screams of pain filled the room._

**_Just go kill yourself, worthless… eaves dropping; you think your better don't you? You Trashy Bitch! _**

"Sara! Sara." She felt a hand pushing her, her eyes snapped open and she sat straight up in bed, cold sweat dripping from her forehead, shivers ran up her spine in small waves, her eyes stung from tears, "Sara, it's okay, it was a dream." Sara recognized the voice but was too caught up in her dream to remember who it was.

_**Just go kill yourself, worthless… eaves dropping; you think your better don't you? You Trashy Bitch! **_

She felt an arm around her pulling her closer; Sara shut her eyes tears stinging her raw dry face. There was a hand on her forehead. "Sara, your burning up, are you okay? Sara?" Sara didn't answer, she couldn't, memories were flooding her mind, her thoughts, and she couldn't concentrate. "I'm going to get you some sleeping medicine, and Tylenol, stay here." She felt the person leave her side, and she felt a wave of coldness wash over her as he left. She heard him say sleeping pill, terrified to fall back asleep, she opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out. She felt dizzy; her head felt heavy as if it had gained ten more pounds.

Greg came back, helped Sara swallow the pills. He gently stroked her hair with his fingers, and laid Sara back onto the pillow. She felt as if she was in a daze, not sure what was going on around her, she felt as if she was watching herself from above this whole time, like it wasn't really her who cut herself, like it wasn't really her who was laying in Greg's bed, drifting into another restless slumber.

* * *

Greg watched nervously as Sara fell asleep once more. Her face was damp with sweat, along with the rest of her body. Whatever was going on with Sara, Greg felt useless, as if he had to watch all that he did with no say in anything. He brushed his fingers gently through her hair and sighed. He closed his own eyes, remembering finding Sara on the ground in the locker room, images of her blood flashed through his mind. She had fallen on him, passed out. He remembered cleaning up the blood, the glass, shutting Sara's locker. He made sure all signs of blood were not visible the last thing Sara needed was the rest of the night shift asking questions. Greg had picked Sara up, carrying her motionless body, out of the building; swiftly he had avoided the rest of the team. 

Now staring at Sara, he wondered if it was all worth it, would she have been better off in the hands of a doctor. In better care? _No, _he thought, _that's not what Sara, would have wanted…_

_

* * *

_

_Sara hid under the bed, covered in darkness, she covered her ears so not to hear the screaming in the other room. _

"_You fucking idiot, did you not think I would find out?" Her mother's shouts flooded the room, the house, her ears. Sara could not here her fathers muffled response. This wasn't going to be any bad as the others, Sara would assure herself. Constantly her mother would yell, cry, throw fits, but eventually it would die down, she would apologize and it would be all better, like nothing had happened. She had these moments, these moments Sara would sometimes call "her dark side." She wasn't always like this, Sara had remembered when she was younger her mother would take her to the park, push her on the swings, she remembered it so well, her mothers sweet smile, the wind blowing through her hair tickling her skin. Often she would even buy her ice cream. However Sara had overhead that her mother had severe depression problems. She had a treatment that would make her mother act almost normal. When Sara turned six her mother had refused to take the medication, that's when things got bad, the fights, the arguments turned into physical abuse. Yet her father never reported the abuse, it just got worse. _

_But it's just going to be like all those other times, Sara thought, but as she did she heard her father's scream, a thud. Then silence. She closed her eyes;' _it's not that bad, not bad.' _She whispered to herself. _

* * *

Sara's eyes fluttered open, she tried to move her head, but it hurt, pain shot from her eyes to the back of her head. She moaned and tried to sit up, she felt the room spinning. Sara looked around; Greg was not in site, although this _was _his room. She pulled her feet out of the bed, and stood up, her body began to shake again, the room was spinning, stepping forward she gripped the wall for support and started walking to the door. Clumsily she knocked into his dresser, hitting her arm, she screamed as the pain made its way up her arm, moving to the rest of her body, she stumbled forwards, loosing her balance she fell to her knees the, cut's resulting in more sharp stings, then her head hit the floor with a loud thud, her eyes closed once again, leaving her in utter blackness, alone. 

_**Just go kill yourself, worthless… eaves dropping; you think your better don't you? You Trashy Bitch! **_

The words rang through her head, echoing, stinging, hurting. Again she wished she was dead. Maybe then she wouldn't hurt. Maybe then she would be at peace. Maybe.

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**A/N **Shorter then before, sorry. It's only cause I know what I want to write for the next chapter, and I don't to write it here. I gotta leave you hanging! 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **Ehh yeah this chapter is a bit dark. And there a few spelling errors, ignore it. I'm like completely destroying Sara. But don't worry I'll fix her soon. Read and Review : Thanks!

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Sara's eyes flickered open, at first she was unaware of where she was, the white walls, the strange smell, a sterile smell that clung to the air. She waited for her senses to kick in, but they didn't. She moved her head, and found Greg attached to her arm. He was holding it tightly, his head resting on it, as if he was sleeping. "Greg..." She croaked, her voice was sour.

Greg's head shot up, she realized he was crying, his face was tear streaked.

"Sara, oh thank god." He whispered and squeezed her hand.

"How did I-- What..." She started to say in a hoarse, weak voice.

"Flu." A nurse came in, a clipboard in her hand, her hair was blonde, it was up in a neat bun, she had a professional sounding voice, "You seem to have a terrible case of the flu, nothing we can't take care of. You can even go home tonight if you like." She said giving a masked smile, "I do have to ask you about those cuts on your arms, where did you get them?"

_Crap,_ Sara thought, she glanced at her arms, freshly bandaged.

"I..." Sara started.

"She fell, two days ago." Greg interrupted quickly, he squeezed her hand, "We were taking a walk, and she tripped, there was glass on the sidewalk, it was pretty bad but she insisted that she didn't need a doctor." Greg lied perfectly.

"I see." The nurse said, Sara couldn't tell if the nurse believed him or not. It was silent for several moments, could she see through Greg's lie?

The nurse cleared her throat, "Well, I'll send the doctor in here to clear some thing's up with you Ms. Sidle. We do have to ask your friend here to go and get you some fresh clothes." Greg nodded, looked at Sara and whispered.

"I'll go back to my apartment and grab some for you. Be right back." He stood up and exited.

* * *

Sara lay in the hospital bed, looking out the window, her head still woozy, "Ms. Sidle." a man's deep voice spoke from the door. Sara turned her head; the doctor had dark brown, straight hair, and almost black eyes. He was handsome, along with his sweet smile, "How are you feeling? Any better?" He said quietly and approached her bed.

"Eh... Define better." She said giving him a half smile.

He sat down on the hospital bed next to her, "I had the flu a few weeks ago, I know how you feel." Sara nodded, "It feels like your head's going to explode, like you'll never feel normal again." Sara looked away, what exactly was normal? She questioned herself, "But don't worry you'll get better." He placed a hand on her arm; she pulled away immediately, feeling the pressure from the wounds.

"Do you want a drink? Water? It'll help your throat."

"Yes please." Sara said while staring out the window. She thought back at the past few days, she hadn't been normal in a long time, even before the suicide case, thing's weren't right, when was the last time she really smiled? When she really meant to smile, without forcing herself? She couldn't remember. When was the last time you felt happy? She couldn't remember that either. Would she ever feel normal?

"Your drink madam." The doctor said in a friendly voice he shut the door and handed her the drink, which she sipped. The doctor watched her closely, "Now, the flu, easy to get rid of if you have the medicine..." the doctors voice was low, in a whisper. Sara's head began to feel even woozier her head throbbed.

"Excuse me..." Sara started, "What, what did you say?" She saw the doctor's lips moving, nothing was coming out, her vision dimmed a little, she felt as if she lost consciousness, yet she still knew what was going on. She dropped the glass, it hit the ground and shattered to pieces, she couldn't hear it. She turned slowly back to the brunette doctor who had leaned over her and grabbed her wrists, holding them above her head on the pillow, he climbed on top of her and pressed a kiss against her neck, and slowly down her body, she let out a gasp. His kisses were traveling lower, she told herself to stop him, she tried to scream but her mouth didn't open. It was as if she was watching herself from above being assaulted, raped, it was like it wasn't really happening to her, as if she was watching it all from above.

She thought about the past few days more, how just a few memories had shattered what was left of her life to pieces, her life was slowly falling apart. Like a sweater and there's a lose thread, you ignore it at first thinking its nothing, but as the weeks go by, every time you wash it, the thread gets longer until one day you decide to pull it, but it just starts to unravel the sweater, making it worse, little by little. The doctor, slipped the shirt over her head, careful not to rip it, he wasn't going to leave any evidence behind, none but the victim. He knew when he saw the cuts on her arms, on her arm that she didn't care whether or not her life was ended, or not. She was the perfect victim, she'd probably end up killing herself anyway, it's not like he cared.

* * *

Sara laid there a while after still unable to move, still unable to do anything. Suddenly the silence broke; sound flooded her ears, her head. She shook herself and forced herself to get up, as soon as she did Greg walked into the room. She looked around wide-eyed, her shirt was back on, it was like it didn't happen. "Sara? What's wrong?" Greg's voice asked nervously, he saw the distress etched into her face.

"I... take me home?" She said quietly, she wasn't going to tell him, she wasn't going to file charges, what would it do anyway? He'd tell everyone that she'd cut herself, use it against her. She knew what happened in sexual assault cases, they turned the victim into the suspect. He'll say it was consensual, that she cut herself that she was asking for it. What would she do then? She'd have to go to court be on the stand as a witness, possibly lose her job. No. She wasn't going to tell. She felt dirty as it was, like there was dirt under her skin that she couldn't wipe away.

"I'll drive you." Greg whispered.

* * *

When she got home, she ran to Greg's shower, turned on the hot water and let it wash over her. Greg didn't want to leave her alone. Afraid of what she might do, afraid that she couldn't take care of herself. So he brought her back to his home. For the first time in his life he felt needed, he needed to help her.

Sara stood in the shower, the steaming hot water scorched her skin, she took the soap and scrubbed, scrubbed until her skin was raw, she had to get him off her. She had to get all the dirt, the memory, her messy past off of her. She began to cry, the water and the tears fell down the drain, _how could I let this happen? How? _She asked herself over and over, why did she just let him do that to her? Why did she just let herself cut?

Sara stepped out of the shower; coldness covered her, as the heat left her body. She stared into the foggy mirror at her reflection; she had dark circles under her eyes. How could she let this happen? She asked herself again. How could she let her world fall apart around her? How? _How? _Sara grabbed Greg's razor and pulled at the blades, cutting her fingertips, she pulled them free. How could she just let her mother kill her dad? How could she just let her foster parents yell at her the way she did? Why was she so stupid? Why couldn't she defend herself?

_Sara opened the door a crack, blue light from the television flickered through, along with the strong smell of cigarette smoke that filled her nose. She pressed her face against the crack and peered through. Her mom was sitting on the living room couch, her back facing away from Sara, but she could hear hysterical laughter, through her mom's sobs, she was laughing after all of that, after killing her husband, after **murdering **him. Her mother moved her arm towards the coffee table, and flicked the cigarette ashes into a cup. Sara could see her arm. Her eyes widened. Her mother's arm was covered in crimson red blood. It wasn't her blood. _

"Sara?" She heard Greg's voice from behind the bathroom door but she couldn't move. Greg stood outside the door, and could not hear her reply; she was in there way too long. She tried to open the door but it was locked. He looked around the house quickly and spotted a pin, he grabbed it and stuck it in the hole in the doorknob. He heard it unlock with a satisfying _click. _Greg entered the bathroom, then he saw it. Blood. Smearing the white porcelain bathtub, pooling underneath Sara on the floor, the blood on her towel. She sat against the bathtub; arms outstretched resting on her legs in front of her. "Sara. Oh, my god."

* * *

_Sara remembered the time she had to visit the mental hospital to see her mom. They had to watch her for a while, to see if she was all right. The grown ups had told her, but she knew better, they were checking if she was insane. Retarded. Sara knew her enough to know she wasn't. _

_She had walked down the white hallways aligned with doors with different numbers on them. The nurse had stopped at door 13 and turned to Sara, "There's a red button by the door if you need any help." Sara didn't understand at that time why she would need help; she was just seeing her mother. "I'll be right outside the door." Sara nodded and the nurse let her in. The room was pitch back except for the pale moonlight that was escaping through the bar window. Sara's mother sat at the end of her bed looking at the ground, her hair covered her face. "M-Mommy?" Sara said in a small voice. Her mom's face shot up, it was blank, no emotion. "Mommy?" Sara repeated.  
Her mother shot up, and walked close to Sara, Sara backed up so she was against the wall, "How dare you come here, you son of a bitch. You don't care. I don't want to see your ugly face." Her words stung Sara, "Get out." she said quietly. Sara froze she couldn't move. "Get Out!"_

Greg was in the hospital again, staring at Sara's pale face, as she slept. He held her hand once again, IV in her left arm. He felt guilty, he was forced to watch as her world fell apart, and it was like he couldn't do anything. He was supposed to be there for her, help her, comfort her, but it seemed like whatever he did... nothing helped. He heard footsteps behind him, "She tripped huh?" The nurse said in a soft voice. Greg felt his eyes water up, he should have told the truth, it might have made a difference, "Ms. Sidle will be okay, maybe you should go home and get some rest." She suggested.

But Greg shook his head, "I'm not leaving her alone anymore."

* * *

I got this chapters idea from the book called "The Tenth Circle" Very good book. Read it. Next chapter up tomorrow or monday.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N **Yeah okay I got a lot of 'Wtf' comments from a lot of people, some of which did not submit a review but emailed me. So I'm going to give one of Ecklie's 'for-the-good-of-lab' speeches about the story. Stay with me here, I had the rape because I thought it'd be good because I had something planned after it, but I think I took it a tad too far. I'm going to change the story a bit and say she 'imagined' it. Bear with me and try to enjoy the rest of the story.

* * *

Did it hurt? Greg asked himself.

He stared at Sara resting peacefully, angel like if you didn't notice the large gashes on her wrists bandaged in white cloth. Greg shut his eyes and thought deeply about all the suicide scenes he visited. He never thought once if it hurt when he saw the victims there, laying there, wrists slashed, bleeding out. He wondered if any of them cut their wrists but still wanted to live, maybe some of those deaths were accidents, maybe some of them were actually murder. There were so many possibilities but Greg Sanders could only do so much.

Like he could only do so much to help Sara, soon the rest of the world will want to know where she's been, what happened to her. They were going to find out eventually, if Sara told them or not. "The good or the bad?" The nurses soft voice came from behind him, startled he jumped, and let go of Sara's hand.

"Excuse me?"

"About Ms. Sidle sir." She said stepping out from behind him.

"Right, whichever." Greg said tiredly rubbing his eyes hard.

"Alright, the good." The nurse started, "Most girls who cut, cut horizontally across the wrist, in light lines. That means they usually aren't doing it to kill themselves, or they don't know any better. Ms. Sidles made a deeper cut, vertically. When people cut vertically it means they bleed out faster. Either way if you didn't catch her the way you did, you'd probably be standing over her grave right now. You're lucky, _she's _lucky."

Greg reached for Sara's hand again and whispered, "Sara, what have you gotten yourself into?" _You promised. _He thought, but thinking back he couldn't remember. Did she promise? That's another thing Greg did wrong, he forgot to tell her to stop, to promise to never do it again. What else had he forgotten to say? Was this his fault? Greg's guilt grew uncontrollably.

"The bad." The nurse said, cutting through the thick sound of silence, "Med Student, Jacob Wallis was taking care of Sara when he reported she was having 'fits', so we tested some of her blood and we just got the results. Her blood contained a high dosage of Morphine. Usually the side affects for Morphine are dizziness, tiredness, itching, sweating and so on, but Morphine as you should know is an alkaloid. You should also know alkaloids are hallucinogens. We believe that's why Ms. Sidle was having 'fits'. Doc. Wallis also admitted he had given Ms. Sidle morphine to stop the pain she was complaining of. You have to remember that he is still a med student and may have given too much." 

Greg's eyes went wide, what had Sara been dreaming? What were her hallucinations? Is that what caused her to cut? "I'm… I'm sorry but did you find out what she was hallucinating? Did she s—"

"I'm sorry, but she did not say. We didn't even get to bring it up you brought her home before we could do anything. Doc. Wallis said that he was screaming and her muscles were twitching, that is also a side affect of Morphine. The twitching of the muscles. He thought it was a side affect of the flu at first. Again she is very lucky, she could have lost more blood that could have resulted in a comma or worse."

Greg fell silent, and nodded, he heard the door close. The nurse had left.

* * *

Sara was in a deep sleep, she knew she was but she couldn't seem to wake up, her eye lids were so heavy, she felt like sleeping beauty, sleeping there until someone could pull her out of an eternity of resting, surrounded by darkness. She wasn't sure if that's what she wanted, she knew it was like that when she did it, when she cut, she remembered feeling so much pain, hurt, and sorrow that it consumed her, she had felt empty. There was nothing left.

* * *

I remembered those warm spring day's where the sun heated my skin, and the wind would blow gently through the linen curtains, whispering in my ears, softly, gently, it was telling me everything was okay, I did believe that the wind would talk to me then, I remember how innocent everything was.

_I still remember the world  
From the eyes of a child  
Slowly those feelings  
Were clouded by what I know now_

The warm, comforting sunlight leaked through the window panes, seeping through, staining the room with a yellowish glow. My hair would blow with the wind, messing up my dark brown hair. I can remember how good it felt, the breeze, it was peaceful.

_Where has my heart gone  
An uneven trade for the real world  
Oh I... I want to go back to  
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all_

_I still remember the sun  
Always warm on my back  
Somehow it seems colder now_

I'd feel free, like the wind that was whispering and blowing, it was sweet, pure, innocence. I'd finally be free from the dark restricting, bitter cold of the winter air. If I closed my eyes I'd be flying, with the birds that were migrating back for spring. I could also picture the waves rolling in onto the soft sand on the San Francisco beaches.

_Where has my heart gone  
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger  
Oh I... I want to go back to  
Believing in everything_

_I still remember._

It's funny how I can remember those things, and I wish I could go back to my childhood, maybe fix things, maybe things wouldn't be the way they are now. I remember how sweet and peaceful everything was, until I remembered the blood dripping down the living room wall, I remembered those were all lies.

Even if the world lied to me, hurt me, I'd still come out with a smile the next day. Thinking back, it's hard for me to do that now, put on a fake smile and go on with my day.

* * *

Sara's eyes flickered open, they stung from the brightness of the room, "Greg, I'm so sorry, I'm—"She trailed off, all she wanted were things to go back to the way they were, how could she tell him that? She clutched his hand tightly, not letting go for a second.

"Sara, thank god your okay." Greg said as relief filled him, replaced with a sort of anger and sadness, "Don't you ever do that. Ever, again you promise me? I thought you'd stop, just promise… I don't want to worry about you any more Sara; I just want to know your okay."

"I wont, I…"

"Wait, let me finish. For the past few day's I've had to watch you go through all this pain, suffering, and I had to watch helpless. It's like I couldn't help you. There were times when I thought I'd give up on you, but I didn't. At first I was wondering why I shouldn't, and then I remembered the way things used to be, with you. The way you smiled, laughed, made fun of me. I missed that. If I gave up, I'd never see that again. Sara I love you, just don't scare me like that ever again." Greg finished, Sara could feel his hand starting to sweat, she could see the emotion in his face, worry, sadness, caring…

She felt guilty, she felt like she used him.

Sara smiled and sat up in the hospital bed slowly, "It takes a near death experience to realize what you really have, what you're going to miss, it makes you realize what you love." It fell silent for a few moments before she spoke up again, "It makes me glad that it didn't work."

**

* * *

**

**A/N **I don't own the song 'Field Of Innocence' by Evanescence.

I don't know why but I liked writing this chapter. If things are unclear please let me know in a review. I'm also sorry if the whole rape thing confused you guys I really shouldn't have had it in there.

1-2 more chapters left. Stick with me here! The last one or two chapters should get back into normal Greg and Sara mode, Sara is healing, starting to joke around same with Greg.

I'm not going to spoil anymore.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N **All good things must come to a close. This is the last chapter, but I will write more stories and maybe a sequel but I think I'm leaving it like this. More info at the end, be sure to read the authors note.

* * *

It was that kind of weather where you could wear a tee shirt and be cold, but as soon as you slipped on that snug sweatshirt you were hot, it was like your body couldn't make up its mind, but it was nice weather all the same. The sun shone down on everyone, kids ran through the streets, the flowers were growing, and with every step, every painful step Sara took she felt like the world was just crashing down around her shattering in a million pieces of sharp glass, she wanted to pick up that blade again and cut till the crimson blood poured from her arms, she wanted to sink down into the lonely darkness where she was safe again.

She would constantly stare at her healing arms for hours, transfixed by the large scars that she had left, like little memories etched into her skin. She walked along, staring at the pebbles at her feet, kicking them every once and a while. She wore one of her old worn out sweatshirts and she kept her hands in the front pocket. A few people who were also casually walking would smile and wave but Sara would look away.

_How could these people smile while my world is falling apart? How can the flowers still grow, the sun still shine? How can the world go on when I want it to stop? How can it still spin? How can people love, laugh, feel? I told him, I told him I could get through this I did, but I can't, I can't. I want it to stop I want everything to stop. _

_I feel something hit against my leg, softly, when I look I notice a soccer ball, along with the soccer ball comes running a small kid, about six, he has dark brown hair and huge brown eyes, "Excuse me miss," He says in a squeaky voice, "Would you mind getting that for me?" he smiles, his smile is so wide that I can see several gaps in his teeth, he recently lost them. I stare at him blankly, "Miss?" He asks and his smile fades slightly._

_  
"Stop it!" I scream backing away, the kid looks frightened, but I am more frightened, terror is running through me, I can't face this I can't, "Get away! Stop it, stop!" I start to run and my sandals slip off, I am running in my bare feet and the sidewalk scrapes them painfully. People are staring, I can feel their eyes on me, and I scream my voice is breaking through everything, peoples conversations, the birds chirping everything, I scream so loud that my head feels light and I drop to my knees, warm tears are sliding down my face, stinging my eyes. I close them and cry softly, "I can't, I can't." I feel as if the world is really crashing down around me and no one can help, no one can help me, they all stare. _

My eyes snap open and I sit straight up, I realize I'm screaming and I shut my mouth, it was a dream, just a dream. My hair along with the rest of my body is covered in an icy cold sweat and makes a shiver run up my spine. I hear Greg calling my name and I turn, Greg is sitting next to me, and I start to cry, I feel his arms wrap around me holding me tight, I hear his voice whisper in my ears, "It's okay, it's just a dream."

When I first met Greg I thought he was just a kid, a smart, great DNA tech, but a kid, he wore band tee-shirts, listened to Marilyn Manson, and had the spiky hair to complete his style. And never in the six years had I known him, had I never known he could be so sweet, not until after this. This brings to mind, "Everything happens for a reason." Maybe I was supposed to get to know Greg better, to become better friends, or even more.

"I know Greg." I say in a whisper hardly audible, "But it felt so real."

"We can get through this Sara together."

He's right, I can, I have too.

* * *

_I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away  
I keep your photograph and I know it serves me well  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain_

The first time Sara was out of the house after being in the hospital Greg had taken her to a small diner where they both got a steaming up of coffee. The fragrance of the caffeinated beverage was enough alone to make Sara better. They sat sipping, chatting. Sara had taken a week for a sick leave from work. Of course Grissom had to know what happened to her and when he found out he advised her to start up with her P.E.A.P. consoling again. Grissom didn't say much, he didn't _know _what to say, and Sara couldn't blame him.

But little by little her life was being put back together, "So…" Greg said a smirk plastered on his face.

"What?" Sara said raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing." Greg said and looked out the window still smiling.

"Greg?" Sara asked curiously.

"I said nothing!" Greg said now grinning.

"Common." Sara said getting annoyed, she had come all the way out here to talk to him and he wasn't even talking. Greg has said to go out and talk, 'to get rid of all the emotion that was building up in her head'. He was right though, going out and talking, she was feeling better, if not feeling happy.

"I was just wondering who you _liked._"

"Like…"

"Oh you know! A _crush_." Greg said taking the perfect opportunity to cheer Sara up, and find out the truth at the same time.

"Greg stop acting like an 8th grader." Sara said laughing she felt her spirits rising a little bit, butterflies in her stomach, she did like Greg, she even had slept with him, although not in a romantic way. Her hands began to sweat, her nervous laughter…

"It's a perfectly reasonable question Sara." Greg pointed out, as he reached for his mug and taking his last sip.

"I'm not telling you unless you tell me first." Sara said putting up a fight.

"What? That's not fair."

"It is too."

"Common Sar—"

"No Gregory Sanders." Sara said seriously but threw a sugar packet at him.

"Okay fine, but I thought I told you before." Greg said, then taking her hand and in a whisper continued, "I like you Sara Sidle. Now did it work?"

A smile curled at Sara's lips, "Did what work?"

"Do you feel better?"

"Of course I do." Sara said squeezing his hand.

"Now you tell _me_ who you like." Greg said he brushed his hand through her hair.

"Not a chance," Sara joked, Greg's smile faded and he raised an eyebrow, "I'm not _telling _you who I like." She leaned forward, catching his lips on hers, from right there, that second, from that warm, innocent kiss she knew she _was_ going to be okay.

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away  
You've gone away, you don't feel me, anymore  
The worst is over now and we can breathe again  
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away  
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain_

_The funny thing about being broken, cutting yourself until you bleed, wishing that you were dead and that the world would end, is that you think it can't get any worse. But what's worse is if you do kill yourself, when you do your gone forever there's no second chance, your not coming back. You'll never smile, you'll never laugh you'll never feel any emotion the bad and the good. It's over from the moment the cold blade slices through your skin. _

_Be grateful for what you have, it could be a lot worse.Tthe hardest thing in this world is living in it, if you pull it off it just shows how strong you are. If you know someone who cuts themself of feels depressed please talk to them, help them in anyway possible,the fact that they will have a friend or a person that cares might make a huge difference. If no one is there for them then they could be the next person who dies the next friend you lose._

_

* * *

_

And because this story is influenced by the song Let It Bleed I thought I would post the lyrics.

**Let it Bleed**

By The Used

This poison's my intoxication  
I broke the needle off in my skin  
picked the scabs and picked the bleeding  
and assumed that it was all in vain  
A positive scab that's never healing  
Calloused hit me in the face  
A burning bridge that's so misleading  
Poison's more potent now with the flame

Let it bleed  
Take the red for what it's worth woah  
Watch the fire  
Fill your lungs with smoke for the last time  
If you feel like dying you might wanna sing

The fire department couldn't drown the city  
They didn't even try to wash it clean  
And what did you think that I was sober?  
Put me out cause I'm on fucking fire  
A positive scab that's never healing  
Regret that I kept this clean  
The most that I can do for you is keep on lying  
It's not a lie if you can let it sing

Let it bleed  
Take the red for what it's worth woah  
Watch the fire  
Fill your lungs with smoke for the last time  
If you feel like dying you might wanna sing!

Ohoh you might wanna sing  
Ahaha you might wanna sing  
Hahah you might wanna sing  
Hahahaha sing!  
You might wanna sing!  
You might wanna sing!  
You might wanna sing or scream at...

This poison's my intoxication  
I broke the needle off in my skin  
Picked the scabs and picked the bleeding  
yeah assumed that it was all in vain

Let it bleed  
Take the red for what it's worth, woah  
Watch the fire  
Mamma fill your lungs with smoke for the last time  
If you feel like dying  
If you feel like dying  
If you feel like dying, You might wanna sing  
Hahaha You might wanna sing  
Haha You might wanna sing  
Ha you might wanna sing or scream at...

* * *

**A/N **Sorry if the ending isn't what you expected, but I had to get that thing about 'if you have a friend who cuts.' Because I think that is extremely important and that's one of the reasons I wrote this fanfic. I really hope you enjoyed the story as much as I liked writing it even though sometimes it gave me head aches.

Again I'd like to say I don't own any of the songs I posted like _Broken _by Seether and Amy Lee.

Thank you again for reviewing and sticking with me 3


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